


Break And Enter

by Geenee27



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Phrack Fucking Friday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geenee27/pseuds/Geenee27
Summary: Phryne Fisher revels in the fact that she seems to be able to break the law with impunity and a certain Detective Inspector is determined to show her that there are consequences to that behavour.





	Break And Enter

**Author's Note:**

> Today is that glorious smutfest they call PFF. There seems to be a theme this time, something about activities against a wall, or door. Entirely @inzannatea's fault because she started it - with gorgeous, *cough* inspiring sketches.

The Detective Inspector swung out of his motorcar and stood for a moment, taking in the dark quiet of the street and neighbourhood. At three o'clock in the morning there was barely a stir and a feeling came over him him, transfixing him for a moment. Peace and stillness washed over him like a mist and he breathed it in. After what he had been through this evening, it was like a balm and calmed his still heightened senses.

 

He raised his eyes to the black firmament and was overcome, as he always was, by the incredible expanse of endless pinpoints of light that filled the sky. It amazed him that there could be millions of other worlds out there, some perhaps looking up at this very moment as he. Occasionally, when he wandered on his walks, he would find himself at the Observatory at the Botanical Gardens and spend an hour gazing at those worlds above him. Of course, after that particular case, when he climbed the stairs he would imagine a certain raven haired beauty at his side. Eventually he extended an invitation for her to join him on his sojourns and now relishes her oos and ahs, as she takes in the mysteries she sees through the telescopic lens, and tries not to dwell on his disasterous romantic overture.

 

Shaking his head, Jack continued up the walk in his front garden and frowned a little of the state of his roses. He really needed to just take a day and spend it in his gardens, they were woefully neglected. Perhaps if he used the right temptation, he could entice a certain lady detective to assist. Even if she just directed him, sitting on the back porch sipping lemonade.

 

He slipped his key into the lock and it went in smoothly, he paused before pushing the door all the way in. By this point in their relationship, his clever partner has managed to breach his fiefdom several times with the expectation of impunity. She does not do it often enough for him to expect her to be here, however he is aware of her tactics and has offen sorted out what she has been up to. To her consternation. Then, she would huff and produce an adorable scowl, exasperated at having been caught out when she had been certain that this time there was no way he could have. In this rare instance in their partnership, he seemed to be one step ahead of her and that annoyed her in the extreme.

 

Well, it was a challenge they both were enjoying, especially as she upped her game every time she tried. He smiled at the deadbolt lock. It looked the same, there were no telltale scratches that indicated the use of a certain ivory handled lock pick. No fingerprints or the smudges from the remnants of lock oil that he could see, as he switched on the foyer light and examined it closely.

 

Jack hung up his hat and coat and gathered the envelopes that had been pushed through the mail slot. As he stood, he grunted in affirmation again that she was getting quite good at this. One time she had picked up his mail from the floor and put it on the hall table, a definite give away. He raised his head and sniffed. No whiff of French Perfume, another dead end. He sauntered into his kitchen and swept an eye over the counter-top and kitchen table. The kettle might have been replaced a little to the left, but then again it could have been he in his hurry to be out the door this morning.

 

He wandered into the parlour, couch pillows were where they were supposed to be, his book on the side table marked as before. No imprint of a lovely, slim bottom on the leather wing-back chairs, either of them. Nor indentations on the ottoman. The glasses and decanter looked untouched, the faint coating of dust an indicator.

 

He peered into the back hallway where the doors of his bathroom, study and bedroom branched off. In spite of the late hour, he had half hoped for it to be adorned with a trail of fabulous clothes that started with a beautiful fur stole and slinky dress pooled on the floor and ended with a silk stocking draped on the bedroom door knob. Nothing so obvious tonight, this was a serious game and there were serious consequences; besides the chance to gloat, the winner also got to chose the nature those consequences.

 

_Aw, she was so... so... good, and she is going to be so... so... when she realizes she has lost this round._

 

The Inspector was still keyed up over the stake out and a small neat whisky sounded good so he headed back over to the drinks trolley, where he righted two crystal tumblers, poured a splash in each and carried them to the table beside his well worn fireside chair. He sank into the chair, removed and placed his shoes to the side and swung his feet up to lay them on the ottoman. Taking a small sip, he let out a long sigh of contentment.

 

The house became very quiet and still once more and he closed his eyes. Not a peep, not even the scurry of a mouse.

 

After a moment of contemplation he called out.,

 

“Miss Fisher, your whisky is poured.”

 

He waited a beat; and then there came a angry whine and he heard small feet hit the floor boards of his bedroom. The door creaked open and as he followed the quiet tread down the hallway, a vision appeared and took the other chair. Swiping her mussy bangs off the front of her face she grabbed her drink and sipped as well, regarding him with a glare that she had a hard time maintaining. Finally she smirked over her glass.

 

“How?”, was all she said.

 

“Tumblers were just a little too smooth.”

 

“Damn, how did you know that?”

 

He did the patented eye roll that he had perfected since the day she had announced her solicitor couldn't cook and stared back at her, studiously trying not to look at all smug. One slip of his lips and he would certainly pay for it tonight.

 

It was very dark in the parlour, the front foyer light had been closed; she leaned over, placed her tumbler on the side table and took a really good look at him. She raked him up and down and was quite astonished to deduce that Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was not in the parlour with her this evening but .... Archibald Jones?! Even Better.

 

Archibald smirked at her reaction and then froze as the Honourable Miss Fisher grinned wickedly and climbed into his lap. It was close, very close, she was wearing only his robe. She settled gently and with one arm around his neck and one on his lapel, buried her nose in his hair and backed up suddenly with a grimace. He smelt of cigars and a cheap perfume that she tried to place.

 

“Ew, Archie you smell like a bordello. Have you been sleuthing behind my back?”

 

Mr. Jones looked up a little sheepishly and the look in his eyes confirmed her accusation. She set her jaw and looked at him suspiciously. He replaced his tumbler and let one hand rest on her hip while the other started to message her ankle.

 

“Yes, and I apologize but there was no time for Archie to proposition Lulu Lorita tonight. The man who was harrassing the women at the club was caught and shackled before I barely had time to flirt. Case closed. Madam Lyon sends her regards by the way.”

 

“Well, as you have been carrying on with a bevy of hostesses, the challenge is forfeit. “

 

“Don't be a poor loser Miss Fisher, I won fair and square and you have to pay the consequences. You made the rules.” "Besides, I souveniered a piece of evidence with which I may have a use for regarding said consequences - if needed." He leaned over to where he had placed his shoes and reached for something. Sitting upright, he revealed a short, black riding crop, with a feather of leather at the top end and a loop of leather entending out of the other end that included the handle. He watched her eyes, his cheeks becomeing flushed as he tried to read her reaction. Perhaps he had gone too far...

 

She eyed him with a look that started to unnerve him as it quickly turned downright smouldering, slowly loosened the knot of his tie and slipped it from his upturned shirt collar. Without a word she removed herself from his lap and grabbing her glass, glided back down the hall and into the bedroom. Archie downed the rest of his drink in one go and followed.

 

He entered the bedroom, quickly removed the offending jacket, sweater vest and trousers and folded them over a chair, to be sent out to be cleaned later. He tossed shirt, vest and smalls in the laundry basket and headed to the bathroom naked as someone had purloined his robe. Running the shower until it warmed up, he stepped in and had started to shampoo his hair when small hands pushed his away and she proceeded to rub his scalp as he emitted a small groan of pleasure. She then grabbed the bar of soap and as she pressed her nakedness to his back, reached around and started lathering at his neck and working her way down his chest and abdomen. Phryne took a deept breath as her hands glided over his skin; she did not think she would ever tire of revelling over the lean, well defined, hardness of his body. There didn't appear to be an once of fat on this man.

 

Phryne switched to his back and massaged his shoulders as she admired how the soap slid glistening down his tanned muscled body. She stood on tip toes to kiss the fine hair at the nape of his neck, making his shiver, and then continued to soap along the small of his back and over the pale muscle of his arse and further to the strong muscles of his thighs and calves. When she was done, she turned him slowly, smiled up at that beloved face that was lost in bliss, eyes closed, long lashes on his cheeks. She slowed her hands now as she worked the soap into the curls of hair on his pubis and lovingly caressed his arousal. His breath began to stutter and she cupped and gently scratched at the tender underside of his scrotum. He growled and grabbed her hands and lifting them above her head kissed her slow and close as the soap dropped to the tub with a thunk. The kiss deepened as his erection pressed against her mons veneris, caressing it. Phryne lifted one leg around his hip and pressed back.

 

When he could wait no longer, he broke the kiss, reached to turn the water off and stepped out, raising his hand to help her. He carefully dried herself than him and lifted her in his arms as she straddled his waist and carried her to the bedroom. As he shut the door with his foot she whispered with urgency, “Take me now, Archie. “ He lifted an eyebrow over his hooded, dark eyes and spun, gently laying her up against the back of the door and pressing up against her, rubbed against her wetness. She groaned and gripped her hands tighter on his shoulders and positioned her legs so that he could push in slowly. She whispered her encouragement, her approval softly and then progressively more loudly as his strong legs and arms allowed for long languid thrusts that heated and sped up until she was delirious with pleasure. As she broke, she flung her head back and called his proper name several times, and Jack saw the blazing firmament again.

 

As her cradled her in his arms, his hands against her back, soothing any pain she might have experienced, she kissed his cheek and neck and ear and held him as close as she could.

Their panting calmed and he raised his head to look her in the eyes. “Alright?”, she nodded and smiled dreamily.

He huffed out, “That Archie fellow is an impatient bugger.” She responded with a laugh, ” Well, to be fair I rather egged him on.”

 

He kissed her again very slowly, conveying all he felt for this amazing woman, then carried her over to the bed. Laying her down, he padded back down to the bathroom and briefly started the shower again to rinse himself properly of all the soap still stuck to his hair and skin. When he returned she was languidly spread across the duvet, hair spread out across the pillows, contented smile on her face, and wearing a... a... gold tie. It lay between the rosy peaks of her breasts and continued down until the end brushed the dark curls below her belly button. 

 

He lay down beside her and slowly passed the leather feather down her neck, between her breasts and lightly tickled the underside of each. She was delighted by his boldness and responded by pulling him in for another deep kiss that took his breath away. As he lay back he fingered the tie. “Oh look, you've creased it now!,” he pouted. His eyes belied his dismay, they were full of mischief. She opened her eyes and shook her head slowly, “Oh come here.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
